Twelve Days, One (K)night
by AnonymousDH
Summary: WIP! - "Like I said, I want you to marry because you've fallen in love. Not because that's what the custom is. The only way I'll let your father declare that our little princess is going to reign the Specter House is because you've fallen desperately in love with one of their heirs." – AU 16th Century Darvey (Donna and Harvey) Royalty fic. This one's for the #DA
1. Chapter 00 - Prologue

**Hi everyone.. So yesterday was Kings day here and somehow we started talking about imagining Donna and Harvey as King and Queen.. and well one thing led to another, and I started writing this piece set in the 1500's. So it's most definitely AU.. but I hope you'll give it a go.. I sketched out most of the fic, it will probably be around 9 chapters, but please let me know if you think this is at all interesting :) And the rating might get changed for upcoming themes, so be sure to follow if you like it.**

 **So without much further ado.. Here's the prologue and the first real chapter in the next part.**

 **This one's for the DA and the dragon tamers (you know who you are).** **I hope you all like it :) x**

* * *

 **Twelve Days, One (K)night**

 _Prologue:_

The porcelain skin of her right hand moves over the handle of the engraved wooden door. Her auburn locks swaying from left to right as she swiftly looks over her right shoulder. Scanning the empty hallway behind her she makes sure one last time there's no one else there to see what she's doing.

She's not supposed to be there.

He forbid her from ever going here, but the memories and the fact it wasn't allowed only making it so much more tempting. She lets out a breath as her grasp moves the handle down at last. Pushing the door open she strolls inward, her left hand pulling the skirt of her gown towards her as she twirls around.

Her eyes closed she remembers the melodies of the music that used to play, she remembers the aroma of the flowers her mother picked to decorate the tables underneath the painting. She recalls her mother's voice and her father's laughter.

Swallowing she opens her eyes, her pupils take some time to adjust to the lack of lighting, but the paintings are still visible. A small layer of dust accumulating on the top of her index finger, she pulls back the hand that traced the golden frame. Blowing away the lint, she reminds herself that she can't leave any evidence of her presence behind.

Her gaze follows the edge of the purple gown until her eyes look into those of the duchess she hasn't seen in years. Six years, she swallows as she studies the painting on the left. The one that portrays her parents. The late King and Queen Paulsen.

Six years.

Six years have gone by since they passed away. An accident, that's what he told her. Her uncle, the man that's looking after her now. She doesn't dwell upon that black day too much, she never got to see them. She never got to see the place it happened, she never got to say goodbye.

Her eyes focus on the auburn locks of her mother on the portrait, her fingers running through her own hair as she remembers how her mother used to do that.

* * *

 _Her head rests against her mother's upper body as she lays down beside her on the lounger. Listening to the stories Evelyn tells her about a canvas of her choosing. It's a ritual, something they did on every Saturday. Her eyes close as her mother's hand runs through her ginger manes, listening to the story she already knows by heart._

 _The anecdote of the bridal portrait of her parents._

" _Were you in love with father when you wedded him?" her eyes flicker open meeting the hazel ones of the older woman. "Absolutely," she beams, pulling her daughter closer, "I was very fortunate about that," she presses a kiss on Donna's head. "Why?" the word left the girls lips making her mother laugh, she was so curious. Always wanting to know why or how something happened._

" _Because I got to wed my closest companion," Evelyn grins thinking about her spouse, "I mean.. yes our betrothal had been planned since my birth, but we met before that decision became public. We got to know each other since we lived close. Your father and I became acquainted and fell in love," she lets her daughters fingers run over her wedding band. "I want that for you too, Donna."_

" _Why?" the twelve year old girl murmurs, lifting herself up from the lounger. Spinning across the room in front of the portraits, before she lets herself fall down on the hardwood floor. Her gown flowing around her legs, her arms leaning on the edge of the red velvet sofa. Her eyes directed at her mother for a second time as she still waits for an explanation._

" _Because," her mother hooks her finger under her offspring's chin, making the girl look at her again, "if it would be up to your father, or your late ancestors. You would be betrothed to one of King Gordon's sons," Donna studies the smile on her mother's face. "But.. I've never met one of them, how?"_

" _You have. You've met them, dearest," she squeezes Donna's hand, "remember your sixth anniversary, the two lads that pretended to be knights and fought with loaf of breads," Evelyn's words making Donna laugh, but she shakes her head no. She can't really reminisce the moment. "Well. You're father and their father, they arranged for you and his oldest son to be wedded, but you don't have to do that."_

" _Why not?"_

" _Like I said, I want you to marry because you've fallen in love. Not because that's what the custom is. The only way I'll let your father declare that our little princess is going to rule the Specter House is because you've fallen desperately in love with one of their heirs."_

" _What if I do?" Evelyn closes her eyes, smiling at her daughter's words. "In that case I'll be very happy for you, because only the best is worthy for my daughter."_

* * *

She closes her eyes, pushing away the recollections of the last conversation she ever had with her mother, she turns around. Not even willing to face the image with her eyes closed. No matter how hard she tries to forget, she'll always be able to picture it.

To hear those words once more.

" _Like I said, I want you to marry because you've fallen in love. Not because that's what the custom is. The only way I'll let your father declare that our little princess is going to rule the Specter House is because you've fallen desperately in love with one of their heirs."_

She lets herself tumble down on the hardwood floor, her dress circling around her legs like it had done all those years ago. A tear rolls down her cheek as she thinks about the day to come. Her eighteenth birthday, she'd not yet fallen in love. She had not even met the heirs her mother had spoken about, or anyone else for that matter.

She'd been imprisoned by the numerous of defence walls for the past twelve years. Not once setting a foot outside the manor after the loss of her beloved father and mother.

All because of him.

"Donna!" the dark voice mingled with the sound of the heavy wooden door hitting the wall echoing through the art gallery. She freezes on the spot, her head tilting towards the grey bearded man. The anger clear in the dark brown eyes staring down at her.

"Sorry, uncle," her voice trembling as she lifts herself up, realising her mistake as she sees his jaw clench even more. "King Hardman," she stutters running out of the room, pushing away the tears.

He didn't even keep the Paulsen family name.


	2. Chapter 01 - At Age

_Chapter 1: Of Age_

Her breath falters as her fingers trace one of the golden embroideries on her emerald gown. Her auburn curls bound together in a knot, her head is hanging low as she tries to push away the memories. The prospects of this day.

They aren't here and she isn't in love.

She halts on her spot as one of the guards blows the trumpet. A signal that indicates the ball held in her honour has been opened. But it feels like anything but for her, no doubt another event, another opportunity for her uncle, King Hardman, to put some sort of power play in action.

Her eyes flash open, automatically scanning the dining hall in front of her, in search for a face she wouldn't even recognize. Her attention being broken as her uncle's hand falls around her arm, shaking her to get her attention.

"Dance," one word. It's all he says and she swallows giving in. To any other she'd protest, to any other she'd step up, but she's learnt by now that with her uncle it makes no difference. She decided all those years ago that it's best to keep quiet, to not draw attention to herself as long as he didn't make her do things she didn't want to do.

So far he hadn't.

* * *

"Harvey," Marcus's voice is low as his hand reaches for his brother's arm. Pulling him back as the older chap is nearly running down the dining hall. "Sssh," he murmurs back, his eyes questioning the expression on Marcus's face. "We're not even supposed to be here," the younger man whispers pulling his brother's sleeve before he let's go. "Precisely," Harvey scoffs, fixing his outfit again, "and that's why I'm not the heir of the Specter House tonight and neither are you. Tonight we're just two knights, no one of significance."

"Two knights wouldn't even get asked to this," Marcus's tone serious as he steps closer, annoyed by his brother's eye roll. "Fine, I'll be a blacksmith then," his signature smirk appearing on his face as he's about to walk away. "Harv –" Marcus pulls his brother back once more, "Harry," he shakes his head pretending to play along with this game Harvey was playing. "Why are we even here?"

Harvey lets out a sigh, thinking back to his father enlighten him once on the original path that was drawn out for him since his birth. "Because I want to see the woman I'm most definitely not going to wed," he hisses pulling his arm out of the younger man's grip and his head snaps back into the direction of the dining hall. His eyes instantly locking with a young redhead at the other end of the party.

 _Damn,_ his mouth drops a little.

She gulps, looking down. Breaking his gaze, she can still feel how the dark brown eyes are focussed on her. Wiggling her arm from her uncles grip, she rushes down the steps to the floor, the music starting to play as she disappears in between the crowd.

His feet start moving the second he notices she moves down. He pushes himself through the crowd. It's busy, but her vibrant manes would stand out just enough for him to find her. As if it was a signal, a sign of fate, the woman catching his eye the only redhead in the room.

Her head travels from the right back to her left, meeting the same dark brown eyes in the near distance now. This time she doesn't look away and neither does he, as she pushes herself past two viscounts in his direction. There are only a few steps left when her gaze redirects to an unknown hand on her arm.

"Earl Travis Tanner," a brown haired man bows as his hand slides down her arm, his fingers hooking around hers as his lips place a kiss on her hand. "May I have this dance?" she swallows, pressing her lips together unsure of what to do. This isn't conform the protocol.

Her eyes flicker up briefly, in the direction of those two brown eyes this time, but he's nowhere to be seen. Not anymore. "As you wish," she whispers, forging a smile as she looks at the man who's still holding her hand.

The prince's jaw clenches looking at the scene in front of him. Without a seconds thought he turns around on his heels. Finding someone of the opposite sex nearest to him, he quickly asks for her to join him as he walks back to the party that was forming the lines.

His eyes catching those of the redheads anew as he places the lady right next to the redhead. His lips curling up in his signature smirk, his eyebrows quickly raising as he brakes their gaze. His head held high he walks back to his position, right next to the man that stole her away from him. His eyes trailing off to the woman on the left, but he lets out a sigh at the way she looks down, making him focus on his own dance partner again.

Taking a step to the right he bows down, greeting the woman in front of him as all the other men did the same to their partners. The row of women moving to their left, gowns slightly lifted as each woman held on to her dress with both hands while nodding to the man opposite of her.

After recreating the movements in the reverse direction the prince made a right turn on his place, walking along the woman he picked out mere seconds ago as both of them angled their bodies. Their arms spread, but held to the ground, his gaze falling on the mysterious redhead in the emerald gown once more as he finishes the crossing of the dancefloor with a turn.

Donna's eyes travel to the ground, breaking his gaze another time. Stepping forward as her right hand catches the one belonging to earl Tanner as part of the dance. Letting go slightly before she was meant to she circles around one of her ladies-in-waiting that was dancing with the mysterious stranger, that seemed so familiar.

As pairs of two the four of them walk to the middle of the rows, forming a circle. His place is behind the rivalry man but across from her, his own lady facing the earl. Right hands extended towards each other, the small party circles around on the rhythm of the music. Swaying her head to the right, she tries to avoid his eyes but all she can focus on is how muscular his arms are.

He can still feel the warmth of her hand that floated above his as the men change places while moving back in line. His face directed to the entrance of the ballroom before he steps to his left. His eyes lock with Donna's, feeling a current run through his body when her right hand rests on his left.

Stepping backwards in sync, both only looking at the other as their feet dance the steps they both learned from the day they were taught to walk. "Donna," she's not sure why she tells him her name, but it feels like a rational thing to do. Her head tilts to the left as she sees his eyes widen for a second and the way he swallows doesn't go unnoticed either.

His left hand angles and her fingers slide against the palm of his hand. Their eyes locking again as he briefly squeezes her hand. He lets go of her then as turns around once more, his back towards hers, their arms stretched to the ground they stride around the other.

Heads crooked to the middle, his eyes roam her face and her lips curl up slightly. She notices how his eyes never leave her and she patiently waits for him to reveal his identity. She can feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek as his right hand seizes hers behind her back.

His lips are near her earlobe now and she glances down almost excepting the fact the gentleman next to her remains a mystery. "Donna," the way her name leaves his lips making her swallow, "Harry," he mumbles. She looks in his direction one more time before they part, turning around till her hand lands on that of earl Tanner again.

The hand of the lady-in-waiting he was originally dancing with lands on his, but it just doesn't feel the same. The words she whispers not registering as his eyes were still directed on the redhead dancing in front of him. The way a loose strand of hair swirled from left to right, the way she held her head high, the light from the candles casting a shadow on the delicate skin he had just observed from up close.

Harvey turns around, spinning on the dancefloor with his girl, but his heart skips a beat every time his eyes meet hers. He notices how the maiden walks away angry from his grip, but he doesn't care. His feet taking the steps he's supposed to, he walks around earl Tanner to his next position in the dance.

His lips curl up slightly when he finds himself facing her again. She looks down as both of them curtsy, but he can't help but look at her. Now that she doesn't notice it, his eyes quickly tracing the bodice of her dress, her slightly freckled chest, but mostly her lips. The way she smirks as if she knows something and he doesn't.

The men cross the floor one last time as the woman turn on their place. Even though their hands rest on the small of their own back, the way the earls arm pokes his doesn't go unnoticed and he merely nods. If the earl knew who he was or she was he'd never act this brave. The music comes to an end as he takes his place next to the redhead. He tries really hard to look in front of him, but she's right next to him. His head angling to the right once more, he just can't stop looking at her.

He notices how she doesn't give in, how her eyes are directed to the floor. But he also sees the way the skin around her eyes crinkle just a little, the way her lips are slightly tugged and he can't help but smirk as his gaze drops one last time. Taking in her beauty before his head tilts back, his eyes slowly following until he faces the lady-in-waiting again. The music fades away and he lets out a sigh.

It's now or never.

Both of them turning towards the other at the same time, she lets out a nervous laugh looking down over her left shoulder. He bites his lip, throwing all manner lessons he's had out of the window as he steps closer than would have been considered socially acceptable. His fingers scraping her dress as she looks back up to him.

Her cheek almost touches his, but he still doesn't speak. "So," she whispers, it's not really a ladies place to start a conversation, but she isn't just any lady. His breathing becomes heavier the longer he stays in her presence, this girl is something different. "I've told you my name," her eyes meeting his once again as he leans forward, "do I have to pretend I believe yours is Harry or are you going to enlighten me with the truth?"

He smirks, faking offence as he pulls his head back. Rocking back and forth on his feet he meets his brothers gaze in the distance signalling him to come back. "How can you do that?" he ignores him, his attention redirected to the redhead in front of him.

She doesn't answer his question, her shoulders raised she lets out a breath before she looks back at him. "I'm Donna, I know," she brushes it of as if it isn't a special talent, but to her it never was. She knew, she always knew.

"Everything?" he leans back in.

She smiles keeping her eyes locked with his, not willing to show him she didn't really know his name. Even if he seemed so familiar. "Everything," the whispered word being covered by the sound of a fast drumroll coming from the direction of the main table again.

Donna turns around, her eyes closing as she hears her uncle's voice echoing through the room. "I'm very pleased to announce..." She's bracing herself for whatever is to come, because she's learned by now that whenever something like this happens it's anything but good.

"The betrothal of my beloved niece, Princess Paulsen ...," a gasp escapes her lips, her chest tightening as her eyes flicker open again when she hears her own name. She looks to her left, but the spot next to her is empty.

He's gone.

".. to Lord Mitchell Wykeham."

* * *

 **A/N: OKay.. so if you've made it this far.: Thanks for reading and I'd love to know your thoughts :)**


	3. Chapter 02 - Help Me

**WOW! I wanted to thank you all for reading and reviewing/ follows/ fav. especially since this is such a different setting, so THANK you! Here's the next chapter, I hope you like this one too and maybe leave a review? x**

PS: Happy #SarahSunday for those of you on twitter :)

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Help Me**

Her eyes widen in shock. "No," her hands falling flush against her stomach as she collapses forward, the words of her uncle pushing all the air out of her lungs. Her head lifts slightly and she notices how the crowd had parted around her, making her able to see how he walks away from her.

"Wait," she swallows in her words as she leaps forward. Her feet immediately coming to a halt, her hand still lingering in the air as she realizes she isn't in the position to run after him. All eyes directed on her, the princess. She can't run after him, as much as she wants to she can't. Not with her uncle towering out above her now.

His jaw clenches with every step he takes. The wide eyed look his younger brother is giving him not helping in any way. He shakes his head, signalling he doesn't want to hear a single word about it, but he's not ready to give up all together.

He had no intention in marrying her, he really hadn't, but the moment his eyes met hers something shifted. Swallowing he looks over his shoulder one last time as he hears a cry echo through the room. His eyes meeting hers, he notices the way hers are filled with tears. The way her arm is being pulled by what he can only assume to be the man that just made that announcement.

He turns around rapidly, walking towards the scene as he sees the King drag the young redhead over the floor. His pace increasing as he notices the way she's fighting the hold on her arm, the way she begs the man to let her go, the way she tries to run in his direction.

The younger prince now following his older brother as they run through the crowd. "Let her go," Harvey's tone firm as he tries to remove the man's hand from her arm, but the way she turns to face him preventing him from succeeding. Her right hands moves across her chest before her arms fall against his, her watery eyes staring at him. "Please," she whispers begging.

"Guards!" Hardman's words making him look up and down from the redhead to the old man behind her. His hand just scraping hers as her uncle pulls her further away. His fingers holding onto the object she shoves into his hand.

"Let her go," he demands once more as both Specter men step forward, but four guards pull them back. Their unsuccessful actions making Hardman laugh out loud as he pushes the redhead away. Her body falling to the ground, she tries to crawl away from the situation, but a man she's never seen before is preventing her from doing so.

"Look at that.." Hardman shakes his head sluggishly as his head falls back from laughter, "those two knights are back," he points at the two men who are now trying to escape from the grasp of the guards. "Take them away!"

His feet kicking in the air as the guards drag him and his younger brother over the ground. His eyes meet hers one last time as he sees the King pull her back on her feet. "Let me go," her fists are slamming against her uncles chest now, but she isn't strong enough. "Let me go!"

"Never," Hardman scoffs pushing her in the arms of the man that was standing right beside her all along, "you're his now." She swallows looking up at the two blue eyes of the at least twenty year older man staring down at her. "No," she exclaims once more, "never. I won't accept this," her head tilting to the right again as the two man force her to walk to a back room. Her uncle signalling the guards to play some music again as if nothing happened.

* * *

The duchess stares down at the two young men at her feet. Covered in mud as the guards threw them to the ground. "What on earth were you two doing here?" she orders, towing the youngest one on his feet as she glares Harvey in his eyes. "We.." he mumbles, his hands trying remove some of the dirt from his suit, "I … I wanted to see –"

"That she is special?" the duchess scoffs with a hint of disbelief in her voice. That the man who went against every rule laid down for him since the beginning of his existence, had once again risked everything to do as he pleased. Ironically by this time doing as was planned all along.

"She is," he mumbles swallowing in the 'not' as the woman slaps him on his arm. "Get in the carriage," she signals, feeling time's running out on them. She knows this place all too well and neither of them is supposed to be here. She the least.

* * *

She hears the music starting to play in the background, becoming louder and louder until she's undeniably sure her screaming will under no circumstances reach over it. She fights the tears as her uncles nails dig into her skin.

"My father would have never approved of this," she pulls her arm back in one hasty movement, feeling her skin bruise by a last endeavour of him to increase his hold on her arm. She seizes onto her gown, distancing herself from the two other men in the room.

"Your father died!" Hardman voice bursts through the room, as he throws his arms in the air. A malicious laugh escaping him as he shakes his head, before his gaze lands on the redhead again. "Leaving the care for his pathetic spawn to me," emphasizing the last word as he points at himself.

"I won't," Donna shakes her head, "I won't do it," she cries out loud now. "I.. I want what my parents had. I want to be loved," she shoves her arms down, her voice cracking under the reminiscence of her parents.

"I don't care what you want," Hardman carries on, signalling the Lord to follow him as he corners the princess against the wall. "You live in my Kingdom, where I am King and my word is law. You shall obey and you shall vow to wed Lord Wykeham as he vowed to wed thee."

Her jaw clenches, her teeth gnashing against each other as she shakes her head. She knows the words she should say, 'I will take thee to wed.' She daydreamt about saying them for ages, but never under these conditions.

"Now," Daniel exclaims taking one final step towards her, her back now faintly sliding down the partition as she looks up to her uncle. Her eyes searching for help in any form, even the two blue eyes of the Lord she's supposed to wed, but he doesn't speak at all. Maybe he's a pawn in her uncles play just as much as she is.

"I will never," she pushes her husband to be away as she runs away once again, this time successfully reaching the door before either of them can stop her anew. Her feet carrying her through the dark hallways she runs in the direction of the stair case. Her pace increases as she hears her uncle's heavy footsteps resonance on the marble tiles.

"Have it your way," Daniel declares as his arms fall around the post at the bottom of the staircase. His head angling, his eyes search for his youthful niece. "The wedding will take place in a fortnight."

* * *

His head leans against the glass window, trying to stop his body form wiggling with every ditch the carriage crosses. His fingers still playing with the silver chain of the pendant in his hand. Letting out a sigh, he lifts his hand letting the pendant slip out of his grip, making the object sway from left to right. "Where did you get that?" the duchess eyes are drawn to the object instantly. Her words waking the prince from his thoughts. "I'm sorry?" he frowns, but he doesn't have to ask further as the duchess takes the necklace in her hands.

"Is it –"

"Hers?" he nods letting the object go as he studies the woman's face. The way she holds the pendant in both hands, her eyes watery as she turns it over. The way the duchess fingers trace the engraving before she undoes the clasp revealing two small portraits. "Donna," she gasps, her eyes closing as she lets her head hang down.

"You've heard of her?"

* * *

She climbs the stairs, her dress flowing around her as she runs through the manor. Her hairdo giving in, her auburn manes covering her tearstained face she reaches her chambers. Her back sliding down the door as she finally feels safe again.

Away from the Lord she'd never seen before, away from her uncle. Away from the words her uncle ordered, away from the drama. Away from everything this day wasn't supposed to be like. Instead of dreaming about the young man who's identity is still a mystery, picturing herself dancing with him. Calling herself by his name, her arms cling around her knees, her forehead resting on her arms as the tears start flowing freely now.

Things weren't supposed to be this way.

* * *

After breakfast she retreats herself to her side of the manor. Trying to stay clear from her uncle, now more than ever. As long as she doesn't have to face either men she can still pretend it was all a bad dream. That it isn't true.

She crosses the landing of the main staircase as she overhears two voices in the distance, she kneels down. Her legs on the floor, her head resting against the tuff stone railing. Scanning the floor below her through the small openings, in search for the persons belonging to the voices she heard.

"His Majesty will travel to go hunting this afternoon."

"And his guest?"

"Lord Wykeham will accompany him."

She swallows, her eyes closed as she repeats the words in her head. _"His Majesty will travel go hunting this afternoon."_ She can't even focus on the rest of the conversation as she waits for the staff to leave, her feet carrying her to the art gallery as her mind goes on overdrive. Counting her options.

The gallery is bright at this time of day. White rays of light entering the room through the floor high windows, the portraits on the wall slightly altered by the reflection of the colour stained glass. Her eyes scanning the wall until she faces that painting again. She always faces the same canvas.

The one portraying her parents.

"What can I do?" the words nearly inaudible. Knowing no one will answer nor be able to hear her, she asks her mother for guidance. Swallowing she lets her head fall down, a loose strand of hair falling over her shoulder. The second she pushes it away, those words her mother said to her coming to mind again.

" _Like I said, I want you to marry because you've fallen in love. Not because that's what the custom is. The only way I'll let your father declare that our little princess is going to rule the Specter House is because you've fallen desperately in love with one of their heirs."_

"Thank you," she whispers opening her eyes again as she nods at the portrait, her hands lifting her gown as she runs back to her room. She finally knows what to do.

Where to go.

* * *

Pulling the hood of her dark blue cape over her head she looks over her shoulder one last time to the fort she's spend her entire life. Running past the stables she considers it best to leave her horse behind, disappearing without a trace of evidence showing she did. She crosses the bridge, deciding to run over the green lands instead of the roads. Heading east as she tries to picture the map with the Kingdom from her late father's study.

She crosses a river an hour in her journey. Taking a rest on the middle of the bridge she remembers her father telling her about a expedition he once made. That if he stopped on the middle of this bridge on the East he'd see the Kingdom of his acquaintance and on the West his home.

He'd see her.

The sun slightly blinding her from the side she notices the tower in the distance. The tower next to her chambers. _"On the east the Kingdom of our acquaintance."_ She turns around, walking to the other balustrade of the bridge, her gaze follows a branch she accidentally kicked in the river, drifting away with the strong steam.

When the object is out of her sight her gaze lifts to the horizon, her lips curling up as she sees the tower of a chapel rise above a town wall. Her hands pushing her back from the balustrade she continues her journey. The wind blowing the hood from her head, her auburn locks escape and the wind plays with them just like her mother used to do.

She sees it as a sign of doing the right thing, her pace only increasing as every fibre in her being tells her this is what she should be doing. The hilly green lands are replaced by low bushes and finally trees, she shivers as the trees now prevent the sun from keeping her warm. The noises of the animals anything but pleasant, but she doesn't get scared easily.

Her hands pull the cape around her with chicken skin covered arms, as her head looks from left to right. She doesn't like to admit it, but she got lost somewhere in the middle of the woods. Determining where to go next, she sits down against a tree. Maybe this was the best moment to take a break, to let her feet rest.

* * *

Her eyes flicker open as she hears a strange sound near her ear. She lifts her left hand to her cheek, a bit of wet slime covering her finger tips she's anxious to open her eyes, seeing what the source of this was, but a bark near her ear makes her wake up completely. "Ooh, god," she mumbles jumping up, her back against the oak tree as the spaniel jumps up against her, barking once more.

The dog's licking her hand now, circling around her barking a few more times before it returns at her feet. "Hello," she whispers kneeling back down, her hand running over the dog's back, "you're not here to harm me, are you?"

"Channing," she hears the voice of a man coming from a distance, the dog at her feet barking once more before it runs off. "Wait," she whispers turning in the same direction, the rest of her sentence being left unspoken as the dog runs back to her, barking again to signal it's owner.

Her hands run over the spaniel's back until the hooves of a white horse come in her sight. Her gaze slowly lifts as she gets back on her feet, tracing the legs of the stallion she now notices the man on it. She tilts her head a bit more, swallowing as her eyes meet two dark brown eyes staring at her.

It are the same dark brown eyes she had seen only a day ago, but these belong to a much older man, with longer and slightly grey hair. She bows down briefly, nodding her head at the what she assumes to be nobleman as he gets of his horse.

His feet hit the ground and he studies the young woman in front of him. A small signal with his hand indicating she can get back up on her feet, he extends his hand, moving the hood from her frame. Revealing the vibrant curls of the young lady, his lips curl up. "Your Royal Highness," his right hand covers hers, "we meet at last."

She's taken a back for a second, a small frown on her face that quickly turns into a smile. "You know who I am?" she asks nervously. "Of course," the man smiles, "King Gordon Specter," he squeezes her hand before he lets go, "I was a acquaintance of your father's."

"You were?" she swallows, relieved to hear the man's words and to have found whom she was looking for. The man nods, letting his hand run over the back of his horse. "Tell me dear, where were you headed?"

"Uhm," she frowns a little, this meeting taking her off guard. She tries to remember what her actual plan was, only to come to the conclusion she didn't have a plan. She had no idea what to do about the situation she was in. "I.. I was looking for you, your Majesty. My mother.. uhm," she looks down, "she told me… I need … I need help," her eyes meeting the ones of the old man once more.

"Alright," Gordon smiled signalling her to take place on his horse, "let's get you to Williamstown first, shall we."

* * *

He lets his head fall back on his pillow, letting out a deep breath as his eyes close for a second. Her smile, her sparkling eyes and her vibrant red hair the first thing he sees. Her pendant still in his hand, he unlocks it. Now looking at the same characteristics but in a younger version. A portrait of what he assumes to be her parents on the right, he thinks back to the words of the duchess.

" _Her parents died in an accident six years ago. At least that's what the commonly told story is," the duchess looks down, her fingers moving over the images. "I never believed that to be the truth, maybe that's why the present King banned me."_

" _Banned you?" the young prince looks at the woman next to him, her posture clearly giving away she knew this girl, this family very well. She nods, fighting the tears in her eyes. "Correct, being the Queens Lady of Bedchamber I probably knew too much."_

 _Harvey swallows, looking up from the portrait and back to the woman next to him he wonders if she's telling him the truth, but so far he's got no reason to suspect otherwise. "Such as?" he inquires._

" _Their carriage, the one that supposedly ran off the cliff, never left the manor that day," she swallows, closing the pendant as she looks ahead again. "All I know is that one second they were still there and the next they weren't."_

Harvey closes the pendant again, his mind still drifting off to theories as to what happened. The story the duchess told him intrigues him, but not as much as the woman part of that story did. His fingers trace the engraved letters on the back.

D.R.P.

His lips curling up as he realizes how both their middle names start with an R, but he isn't supposed to think about her like this. He made it clear earlier that year he didn't want what their fathers had planned for him, he never wanted that. An arranged marriage, imagine his relief when his father finally told him that plan had been off for the last six years.

But now, now he wasn't so sure. _If maybe, maybe he had just seen her earlier_ , he shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts as he tells himself it didn't matter. That plan had been cancelled all those years ago and now, now she was betrothed to someone else.

* * *

Her head tilted she looks up to the wall. Staring at the candle lit decorations, her hands move down over the bodice of her new dress. The one the friendly King had given her when she made it to this house. It's different from everything she's ever worn before, but beautiful non the less.

A vibrant shade of blue, with golden details. The same colours she recognized from the family weapon, as well as the S-shaped embroideries along her neckline. Closing her eyes, her mind drifts off once more to those words her mother had said and she can't help but wonder if this is what it would feel like. If being dressed like this would have been her future as a Mrs. Specter.

Swallowing she opens her eyes again, she knows all too well she won't get to call herself that.

* * *

He stares at his still empty plate, his mind drifting off yet again. The conversation his father and younger brother are heaving anything but interesting. His eyes scan the table and he frowns at the fourth seated place across the table from him. They haven't had a dinner for four in a very long time, not since his mother left.

Got banned.

He doesn't care what the official term is, all he knows is that he hasn't seen her for almost six years. _Six years,_ his eyes close again as he recalls the words of the duchess, but surely that must have been a coincidence.

"Harvey," his father's voice wakes him up from his thoughts, he notices how the other two men in the room are standing. A breeze of cold air flows through the dining room hall, his head turns and he now also notices how the door was opened.

The young redhead he had met the previous day standing in the opening.

His mouth drops a little, his feet pushing his chair backwards in response and he gets on his feet, just like his brother and father. He swallows, nodding in sync with the other men as the lady walks in their direction. His eyes meeting hers when he looks up again, a small smile on her lips representing she remembers him.

"Welcome," King Gordon signals the chair at the fourth place and she smiles thanking the man who came to her rescue. The men wait for the servant to help her sit down, before they return to their own seating. Harvey swallows once more, almost letting himself fall back in his chair as his eyes are still directed on her.

"Father," he speaks, his gaze breaking hers as he looks to the left, "you didn't tell us we have a guest amongst us." His words making Gordon laugh, "well, Harvey, the young lady needs our help," Harvey's eyes flicker to the redhead again. The events of the day before not forgotten, he notices how she looks down. "But let's keep that for tomorrow and enjoy our dinner now."

Harvey nods at his father, his hand reaching for the bread he picks up the basket, offering her a slice. "Thank you," she whispers, her hand shaking a bit as she looks up to him from under her eyelashes. He places the basket back on the table, his gaze lowering as his lips curl up into his signature smirk.

Looks are stolen and drinks are shared. The memories of the dance from the night before hanging in the air, a secret only the two of them really know about, yet neither of them acknowledging it with words.

* * *

His hand floats over the railing of the landing as he roams over the gallery and into the candle lit hallways of his home. His steps are soft, it's late at night, he's not entirely sure why he ended up in this part of the fortress, but something (or someone) guided him here.

His hand clenches around the pendant again. Hers. The one she'd given him the day before, the reason remaining unknown to him, but somehow it doesn't surprise him that they met again. As if she knew they would lay eyes on one another more than once, she'd handed him a piece of jewellery.

His task to return the object now.

* * *

She paces through the chamber assigned to her. It's beautiful, the bed comfortable, but too strange to fall asleep. If she were able to sleep at all, that is. Her mind too preoccupied with processing the events from the past forty eight hours, occasionally drifting off to the events yet to come.

Her hand falls around the handle of her door, in need for some fresh air she opens it and twirls out of the room. The door falling shut behind her, she faces the dark hallway. Noticing the flickering candle lighting on her right hand side, she tip toes to the corner.

A small scream escaping her lips as she runs into someone unexpectedly. Her body being pressed against the cold stone wall in the collision, the male's hand falls flat against the wall next to her head. A index finger pressing against her lips stopping her from letting out any other sound.

She swallows as she slowly lifts her eyelids, her head angles backward making her eyes lock with the two dark brown ones again. Her heartbeat starts to increase as neither of them move, his finger still on the same place. His breath warm against her lips, her chest moves up and down with every breath they share.

"I'm sorry," Harvey whispers, getting lost in her eyes as he pulls back his hand, his movement causing a gasp to escape from her lips as both of them are drawn closer to the other. His forehead briefly leaning against hers, his eyes close. "You're betrothed," his voice calm.

"I…" she pauses looking down herself, "am."

The words are barely pronounced as he steps back, distancing himself from her. With a loud sigh he turns around, his hands balling into fists as he can still feel the warmth of her lips on his skin. His right feet moves forward, ready to walk away, but her hand on his arm making him stop in his tracks.

"Donna," her name formed in a sigh. He doesn't turn around, facing her makes him lose his ability to think clearly. Facing her could complicate things even more, and he can't give in, he shouldn't give in. She isn't his, anything but.

His head is still hanging low, but he turns his head slightly. Observing her grip on his arm and he just hopes she doesn't notice the goose bumps she caused.

Her eyes directed on the back of his head, she observes his movement. Following his gaze she pulls her hand back slowly. "I didn't know," hoping her words can form an apology and explanation in one. "I promise," she adds and he swallows as he notices a sign of desperation in her voice, "I didn't know. My uncle, he –" she pauses as he slowly turns on his feet, facing her again.

"Please," she whispers, "help me."


	4. Chapter 03 - Williamstown

**Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews, I love how enthusiastic you are about this fic that's in such a different setting from what we are used. The ending is different from what I originally pictured it would be, but I hope you like it.. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and as always can't wait to read your thoughts. X**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Williamstown**

His eyes lock with hers and his heart skips a beat as he sees how she briefly bites on her bottom lip, a smirk smile appearing on her face as she looks down just a little. Her sparkling eyes still locked with his as she looks up from her under her eye lashes. His breathing heavy, his feet pushing him towards her. His finger tops scraping her upper arm through the split in her sleeve, a gasp escapes her lips.

Her head's thrown back, her chest moving up and down with every breath she takes, her body bumping backwards by his proximity. His left hand falling against the wall again, it's the only thing that stops his body from crushing into hers. She shivers as his fingers trail down her arm, her lips parting to catch her breath when his hand hooks around her elbow.

His breath is warm against her skin as both of them remain in place. Their eyes still locked he waits for her to object, she merely waits for him to carry on. His gaze descents to her lips, a smirk smile turning on his as he notices she's still waiting for him. His lips lastly brush against hers, they're moist and warm and this briefest moment of intimacy is enough for her to give in.

Her lips seize his bottom lip in a small tuck, her right hand clinging onto his crispy white dress shirt she pulls him closer. His chest now even against hers, his hand travels to play with her auburn manes. Two strands curled around his fingers he cups her face, kissing her harder now. His tongue sliding against hers, she tastes like vanilla and the limited air between them is filled with a soft moan fleeing her mouth.

His hands loop around her middle, his fingers burrowing into her skin through the silk nightgown. A shiver runs down his spine as the cold air hits his skin when she succeeds to pull his shirt out of his trousers. He pulls back, his lips still parted as he tries to catch his breath, but the smile she's giving him as her hands slips under his blouse against his bare ribcage and the way she angles her head backwards, his eyes are drawn to her stretched out neck making him lean back in.

His lips on the suave skin just under her chin, he moves his way down to the side of her neck. Wet kisses, soft nips, her skin becoming his territory by the marks he leaves behind. His teeth pinch her skin at the beginning of her neck, just above her collarbone. His movements making her whimper his name, her back arching as his hands slide over her hips. Lifting her up just a little, his hips pressing against hers as she raises her left leg.

He looks at the way she's breathing, her head still thrown back but he can see her smile. His hand moves over the leg she elevated, pulling the fabric up until his fingers scrape her knee. His lips back on her collarbone he kisses the freckles on her chest, following the edge of her robe over her breasts, she giggles at his touch, his name escaping her lips once more.

Her right hand's between them, her fingers moving over the edge of his pants, brushing against his skin every now and then, making him groan. She draws lazy abstract patterns over his upper body, her hands now pushing over his shoulders to the back of his head. Fingers digging into his locks she lifts his head from her cleavage. Eyes locking, their lips follow soon after. The pace is quicker this time, both of them fighting for control. She pushes herself up, her nails digging into his shoulders, his left hand hooking around her knee as he kisses her again.

His right hand brushes over her thigh, his thumb pressing against the bone of her hip as she hooks her right leg around his waist. She helps him pull up the silk negligee between them, now feeling his urge press against her and a gasp escapes her lips. He pauses, his lips slowly lifting from her jaw he looks into her eyes as she gives him a small nod.

Everything after that goes ten times faster than it had until then. Her hands are on his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands moving over her ribcages to her breast. His lips devouring hers, her back arching as he thrusts inside her, closing his eyes her hand caressing his face. Hips rolling in sync they move as if their bodies were made for each other.

.

His eyes flicker open, gasping for air as his chest moves up and down in a hasty pulse. He sits up straight in his bed, his hands clinging onto the sheets, his hairline covered with droplets of sweat. His eyes take some time to adjust to the darkness of his chambers, he looks around, his heart sinking in his chest as he already knows there's nothing to be seen. She isn't there.

It was just a dream.

He lets out another deep sigh as his body falls back against the matrass. _It was just a dream,_ he tells himself over and over again as he thinks about what did happen between just a few hours earlier.

" _Please," she whispers, "help me."_

 _His eyes meet hers, seeing the tears welling in her eyes, her begging words on repeat in his mind he swallows, nodding slowly as a sign of agreement. He'll help her, even though he barely knows the women something deep inside him tells him he should._

 _He lets out a breath, his hands wanting to reach for hers, but they cling to his suit instead. "I'll make him pay, Donna," his voice is soft and soothing, the words he spoke making it more personal than it was, but he not only wants to help her. He feels the need to do so._

 _She presses her lips into a thin line, the corner of her lips curl up slightly and she nods too. Neither of them speak, their eyes still locked she notices how he breaks her gaze. How he wants to turn around again, "twelve days," she whispers then making him stop once more. "I only have twelve days to get out of this."_

 _He pressed his jaws together letting her words sink in, "I'll get us out of this," he mumbles not even realising the way he referred to the both of them, "tomorrow," he bows his head turning around again. This time both of them remaining silent as the return to their original chambers._

.

He swallows, looking down. Finding himself across the table from her yet again, he shifts on his chair. Pushing away the memories of that dream he stuffs his mouth with a piece of bread. Focussing on the food in front of him he just listens to the conversation his younger brother has with the redhead.

Taking a large sip from his chalice he can't help but notice how her eyes drift off to him every now and then. His gaze lifts from her lips to her eyes then and she smiles softly. "Will you still help me?" she whispers, because he seemed so distant just now.

"Of course," he mumbles, he meant what he said to her the night before and he still does. He sees her smile once more and he can't help but grin himself as she breaks his gaze when his brother coughs trying to continue the conversation. He smirks, rolling his eyes as he bites his tongue. Seeing her blush from the corner of his eye as he continues eating again.

.

His hands rest on the small of his back, he's two steps behind her. Taking her figure in one last time he catches up with her as she looks to him over her left shoulder. "What happened?" he asks his head now directed to the rest of the garden in front of them. "You know what happened," she counters, her shoulder brushing past his, "you were there."

He nods looking down, his foot kicking a pebble. "You didn't know?" he repeats her words from last night and she shakes her head. "No," she sighs, "My uhm.. my unlce arranged this betrothal," she looks down as he stops walking, turning to face her. "I never heard of this Lord before.. I didn't think this would happen."

"Why?" he frowns, "it's custom for – "

"I know," she looks down, she knows that arranged marriages are the tradition. She knows what her mother told her, about him. "My mother," she whispers facing him again, "she always told me she didn't want that for me." Her words making him swallow, he still doesn't know why that plan their parents once had fell apart. He doesn't know if she knows about it, but the only conclusion he can draw now is that her mother didn't think he was worthy of her.

"Ooh," he sighs, rocking back and forth on his feet. Contemplating whether or not he should continue walking. "She wanted me to marry out of love," she brakes his gaze, taking another step forwards, "and so do I."

He swallows, letting her words sink in as he watches her stroll further down the maze. "And so do I," he whispers, closing his eyes. It wasn't what he told his father, but deep down it was the reason he was never on board with the plan in the first place. Seeing her turn another corner he gets pack on his feet and runs towards her.

"We should –" his words and feet stopping abruptly as he faces an empty lane of the maze. He frowns looking to his left and right, he could have sworn he saw her turning this way. Taking two steps forward he searches for her in another path, both of them empty.

Before he can really start to worry he hears a giggle from behind him, his lips curl up a little as he closes his eyes. Shaking his head slightly he turns on his place, slowly opening his eyes he sees her laugh, leaning against a hedge. Her hands behind her back she gets back on her feet swaying from left to right as she throws him another teasing smile. "You weren't worried now, were you?"

He lets out a sigh, "No," he lies a smirk plastered on his face as he walks his way up to her. "But Marcus and I did get lost in here once. They couldn't find us till the next dawn," he tries to scare her, but she doesn't flinch. "Good thing I have an excellent sense of direction," she smiles and he just frowns, questioning her words. "It led me here."

He remains silent at her choice of words, wondering if she meant more than the actual spot they're in right now, because if anything this isn't the best part of the maze. "Just don't walk away again," he gives her his puppy eyes, waiting for her answer. "Only to the place you were about to inform me on." He has to hide a smile, still getting used to this gift she has of reading people. "The library," he crooks his head to the left he signals her to follow him.

.

She hears him sigh and she briefly looks over her shoulder, back to the petite brunette they just walked by. "Who's that?" she inquires as she increases her step, noticing how he started walking hastier. "No one," he scoffs not even looking at her, but he can feel that her gaze is still directed on him. "No one important," his tone firmer this time. Hoping she will leave the subject for what it is, of complete insignificance.

"This way," he opens the door for her stepping aside as he lets her enter first. She walks by him, a thin smile on her lips as she nods once in his direction, her breath being taken away as she takes in the gallery. Canvasses on either side of the marble floor, nearly a spot left undecorated. "Wow," she breathes her hands falling to her ruby dress, lifting it slightly as she walks herself over to a portrait on her right.

"These are absolutely breathtakingly beautiful," she's left speechless as she crosses the room from left to right, her head tilted backwards to take everything in. She smiles as she sees a portrait of two young man, one of them most likely now walking in front of her. "Wow," she mumbles again. He rolls his eyes, waiting for her. "They're alright," he extends his right hand, "the library is here."

She nods, swirling around again as she walks towards him, but before he can open the door her eyes fall onto a ruined portrait. "Ooh my god," she exclaims her feet rushing her to the object, "who did this?" her hand stretching to reach for one of the now folded patches of canvas.

"Don't," his hand on her shoulder for the briefest of moments. Her head turns in his direction, but her hands remain in place. "You did this?" she stares at him in disbelief, a sight of shock clear in her eyes. His jaw clenches, noticing how she didn't pull her hands back, his gaze moves from her hands to her face. Their eyes locking, he swallows. "I did," acknowledging it he hopes she backs down now, but she does anything but.

Taking a step forward, she brings the loose hanging patches of canvas back together, revealing the face of an older blonde woman with blue eyes. Her breath falters as she looks back from the portrait to the young man on her left. "Why?" she whispers, pulling her hands back. Now wondering if pushing this subject was a mistake as his facial expression changes to one with even more disgust. "We do not have time –"

"Is this your mother?" her hand points at the remains of the portrait again as she half-heartedly follows him to the door he holds open for. "It's the woman who gave birth to me. Nothing more," he looks away, signalling her once more to continue to walk. She stares at him, searching his face for an explanation. "I don't want to talk about it," he looks down ignoring her gaze and closing the door behind her.

She looks around, admiring the yet another beautiful room. Cabinets filled with books reaching from floor to ceiling, a fire burning in one of the largest fire places she's ever seen. "Where do we start?" she turns to face him again. "Marital law," he hums pointing at some books on the second shelf from the bottom and she nods as he walks over to his father's study to grab a few sheets of paper.

He turns around a small chuckle escaping his lips as he sees her sitting on the Persian rug, numerous of books scattered on the floor around her. One folded open on her lap. "What's so funny?" she whispers, her eyes still directed on the book as he sits down beside her. "Nothing," he counters as she looks up to him, his hands placing the paper and writing gear in between them.

She studies his face, but she doesn't comment and her gaze redirects to the leather bound book on her lap. "I've no idea where to start," she sighs, flipping through the pages. "I do," he takes the book from her lap, a smile plastered on his face as he hands her the sheets of paper and a feather. "I'll search the books, you take notes."

"Yes, boss," she smiles taking the quill from his hand, pulling her legs up, she lets her arms and head rest on them as she waits for him to cite.

.

He flips over another page, his fingers trailing down the page as he hears the tip of the quill scratching the paper. "What are you doing?" his tone's curious as he sees her hand that was rapidly moving over the paper come to a halt. "Nothing," she ignores him, just like he ignored her question earlier. She tries to shield the piece of paper from his reach, but he's faster.

A frown on his face he studies the black ink lines, recognizing his own hands by the monogram on his sleeve. She avoids his gaze when he holds the drawing up in front of her, "I thought we were looking for ways to get you out of this betrothal thing." She crooks her head, her lips pursed together as she gives him her 'I'm not apologizing for who I am' - expression, "I thought you were going to tell me what to write down."

He bites his tongue, not used to having someone go toe to toe with him on everything he does and says, he hands her a clean sheet of paper instead. "The wedding is in 11 days right?" she nods, "and the first time it was announced was – " "Yes," she answers before he can finish his sentence, "to my knowledge it is." He hums, looking back at the book in front of him, "then the marriage itself is illegal already."

"What do you mean?" she leans forward a bit, quill ready in her hand to write down as he continues explaining. "A couple's intention to get married has to be announced at in the church three times or on three consecutive Sundays or Holy days," he reads as she nods scribbling it down. "Informing the church minister with this could be an option."

She shakes her head. "No it wouldn't," she lets out a sigh, this time it's him asking why. "Minister Soloff is my uncle's right hand. Whatever Hardman says or plans is law, there's no point." He frowns looking back to the book in front of him. "Anyone else that might listen to our case?" his voice is soft, not even realising he keeps referring to this as their case. "No," she whispers, looking down. "Everyone who's against him or doesn't share his views, left or got banned."

"So the fact that this goes without your consent isn't worth fighting either?" he mumbles. "It wouldn't make a difference, his word is law," she mumbles her fingers fidgeting one of the embroideries on her sleeve, "Always has been always will be."

"Anything else?" she tips the back of the feather against his hand that still rested on the book. He playfully pushes the feather away, his eyes flickering in her direction for a second before he focusses on the book again. "Let's see," he mumbles, "You are of legal age. Ever exchanged oaths before?"

He sees her shaking her head from the corner of his eye. She smiles softly as she hears a nearly inaudible "good," escape his lips, now making her wonder if he ever did. His eyes fall on the next line, 'Adultery', his mind drifts of to that portrait of his mother and back to the young redhead next to him. He doesn't feel the need to ask her, something deep down inside of him tells him she would never do that.

.

"Are you related to this Lord Mitchell?"

"What? Eew," she fires back in shock, "I sure hope not," she shrugs closing her eyes. He sees her cringe and a small laugh escapes his lips, "I would be a good thing actually," he smiles as she opens her eyes again, "if you were related to him, because if you are, within seven degrees of separation, it would be a reason to stop your wedding."

"Ooh," she mumbles, "well I guess it's better to be related to him now than in eleven days, but I've got no indication as to if I am related to him," she sighs as she sees him getting up and grapping some rolls of parchment. "We should draw out your family tree," he continues. "Like this," he signals as he undoes the knot binding his together.

Donna starts writing down the names she can think of from the top of her head, mentally walking down the art gallery at her home again. Remembering how her parents used to explain who each person depicted was. "I think this is it," she whispers, handing him the map as she leans back on the sofa she was sitting on now, "but there's no way to be sure. What if I forgot someone?"

"I don't think you did," he counters, his back resting against the wooden frame of the lounger. "Look at this," he pulls two different family trees on top of the book and her map on his lap, his finger tapping against a decorated leaf somewhere in the bottom right corner of the document. She gets back up slightly leaning on her left elbow as she looks over his shoulder. "Mitchell Wykeham," she reads out loud, her eyes scanning the rest of the document. "Who's family tree is this?" she whispers as she fails to discover a name she recognizes.

"Mine," he swallows, her breath warm against his neck, he pulls another piece of document on top of it. "See his great-great-grandfather, is the brother of my great-great-grandmother," his finger trailing down the lines across his parents family weapon to his own name at the bottom, he looks at her from the corner of his eye. "And are we?" she whispers, her eyes locking with his for a second, "related?"

"No," he answers, breaking their gaze. He tried to find a connection between the map she was drawing and the two he'd been studying, but there wasn't. Not a close one at least. He tries to convince himself he the only reason he checked was just because he saw the Lords name on his, but he knows he'd be lying if he said that.

She lets out a sigh, her shoulders falling back on the dark blue pillows of the sofa, her right hand lingering in the air just behind his head. The thought to touch his hair crosses her mind, but she doesn't. They already touched more than what was considered appropriate. Her hand falling back to her own chest, her gaze resting on the two moles above his left eyebrow. "Anything else?" she whispers softly. He lets out a deep breath, scanning the book in front of him once more. "Proof of a previous betrothal."

"You mean ours?"

Her words take him of guard, resulting in silence for a couple of seconds. "You knew?" he whispers, the last word turning into a small chuckle as he realises what he's asking. One of the very first things she said to him, that she's Donna, she knows.

"I know," she whispers slowly, seeing him turn around, his left elbow leaning on the sofa next to her arm, his gaze meeting hers once more and he sees her smile. "That's it," she pushes herself back up, now towering out above him, their eyes still locked. All he can do is look at her with admiration. "If we find evidence of that plan, we can.. we can get this whole wedding thrown out," she chirps getting back on her feet as she takes two steps away from him.

"What are you doing?" he mumbles pushing himself back on his feet as well. "Going to find it," she turns around her arms wide, "they planned our betrothal before I was even born, there's got to be a paper trail of that somewhere."

"Well it's not here," he counters, he'd looked for any document himself a few months back. Before his father told him it had been cancelled. "Maybe the archives downstairs," he offers, his words barely pronounced as he sees her walking to the door again. "Donna," he calls after as he strides towards her, "it's late. Let's look for that tomorrow. Dinner will be announced soon."

"I don't have any time to lose," she looks at him, hoping he understands, "stop me if you must," she challenges him, continuing her path as she runs back through the gallery. He's running after her a few seconds later, his hand only just managing to catch onto the wall as he sees her make a sharp turn to the left and he follows her.

Both running down the main staircase he hears her laugh echo through the room and all he can do is momentarily close his eyes and endure, keeping up with the promise he made to her only a night ago. That he would help her. He follows her over the passage and down another flight of stairs, through another candle lit gallery. His arms stretched forward he's almost able to touch the fluttering auburn locks in front of him.

"Donna," he calls for her once more and she looks over her right shoulder, a laugh escaping her lips as her pace increases even more. She swirls around one of the pillars, his feet sliding over the hardwood floor, his arms in the air. Catching onto the cold stone again, making him turn around to follow her. A hand on either side of the barrier he moves his head to the left, looking to where she'd just run off too but the corridor is empty.

He moves his head back quickly, looking on the other side of the barrier, seeing her do the same. A smile on her lips. "Catch me," she teases him and he smirks, pushing himself past the barrier, as she spins around on the other side. His hands moving over the stones he slowly walks around it, her soft giggle giving away she's doing the same, making them circle around the object.

He bites his tongue, his signature smirk plastered on his face as he turns around going the other way, he manages to end up right behind her. "Gotcha," he whispers, her hand's pressed against the stones, his chest against her back and his lips near her ear. "Harvey," she swallows, his breath tickling her skin she closes her eyes.

He sees her eyes close, his gaze tracing down to her lips left agape, down her neck to her collarbone finding himself intoxicated by her perfume. "I have something that belongs to you," he whispers, his left hand lifting her pendant from his pocket as he lets it dangle from his hand in front of her face. She tries to regulate her breath, something she finds difficult being this close to him. Slowly opening her eyes she sees the silver object shimmer. "My necklace," she whispers looking up at him, "you still have it."

He nods giving her a smile. "May I?"

She hums, bringing her auburn looks to one side as he simultaneously moves his right hand around her neck, reaching for the chain in front of her. Her breath falters as she focusses on his hands and the heat radiating from them. He brings his hands back behind her neck, closing the clasp as her own hand holds the pendant flush against her chest, her eyes closed as she tries to take in every single second of this moment. The way his chest touches her back every time he takes a breath, the warmth of his breath on her jaw, the sound of his whispers so close to her ear. His cologne, the lines of his fingerprints, secretly wishing those lines would be imprinted on her skin.

His right hand latches onto her auburn locks, lifting them out of the chain as she slowly turns around to face him. Her shoulders resting against the cold stone behind her, her breathing becoming heavier as his left hand moves behind her head. Dividing her ginger manes between his hands, he brings them back in position. Reaching over her shoulders and onto her chest.

His gaze is on her parted lips, the pure sight of them making him swallow. The situation they're in so similar to his dream, his fingers still entangled in her hair, he slightly lifts his head at the same she does and their eyes lock once more. The same sparkle in them when he danced with her, the same sparkle he saw last night.

Neither of them move, breathing in sync he looks at her lips again, seeing them part even further and her eyes closing he can't restrain himself any longer. His hand moves to her neck, his thumb on the corner of her mouth as his hand now lifts her chin. His lips meeting her warm, moist mouth in a tender kiss. One she answers without hesitation as her lips capture his in a small tuck. His tongue teasingly against her skin, waiting for her to give in, something she does as her fingers move over his face. Caressing the two moles above his eye, he deepens the kiss, prolonging the moment they share as if they knew this would be the only chance they're given.

A soft moan escapes her as he pulls back, both out of breath his eyes remain closed as his head rests against her temple, both of them smiling. Her hand trails down his face, she can feel him smile under her touch. Her eyes flickering a few times as his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "Harvey," she whispers softly.

He slowly opens his eyes, looking at her again. Admiring her beauty, his heart skipping a beat just like the first time he saw her, his hand brushes over her cheek making her look at him again as he whispers, "Marry me."


	5. Chapter 04 - Crimes

**Thanks everyone for your reviews! LOVE them. I've finished IWHYB, so hopefully I will be able to focus on this fic and CT more regularly from now on (or maybe a new fic).. anyway, here's the next chapter.. it more of a filler.. but I hope you still like it. Enjoy and maybe leave a review? x**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Crimes**

She swallows, her eyes widening as she takes in his request. Lost for words, she remains silent until his name leaves her lips in a nearly inaudible whisper, but just seconds too late as he steps back. His head hanging low, his arms fall back to his side, "you.. you want to wed out of love," he recites her words from earlier that day, the conclusion making him swallow, "and you don't – "

She sees his eyes closing, a lump in her throat she watches him struggle with words she interrupts him, "Harvey, I –" but her own words are covered by the calling of her own name in a voice she identifies all too well. Her uncle's.

Donna freezes on the spot, her own head falling down, she cringes when she hears her name being called once more, from closer this time. She looks at Harvey, the way he steps back, clearly waiting for her permission to say something, she shakes her head. "Stay," she whispers, her hand sweeping past his chest as she marches around the partition and back towards the entry.

"Uncle," she addresses him on purpose, anger clearly detectable in her voice she meets the grey bearded man face to face. "How dare you," Hardman's hand falls around the princess upper arm, shaking her back and forth. She presses her jaws together fighting the pain as she challenges his words with just one expression. "How dare you disobey my orders."

Harvey lets out a sigh, his hand falling flat against the wall as he hears the argument continue. Shaking his head he pushes himself back on his feet, ignoring her words he joins the other's. "Let go off her," he orders, soon finding himself outnumbered by the guards the rivalry King brought along with him.

She looks over her shoulder into his direction, shaking her head she faces Hardman again. "I will not do what you ask of me. Never," she counters trying to remove her arm from his grip, but he's stronger. Pulling her down Hardman hovers above her. "You will," he hisses, "because for as long as you're not his," Hardman turns on his spot pointing at the man she only knows as her betroth, "you are mine."

The Duchess lets out a sigh, her eyes directed at the floor again she tries to forget the encounter she witnessed, the words of both young adults still on repeat on her mind she hurries herself to the hallway to find assistance.

"Let her go," Harvey pushes again, "you're in our Kingdom now and one shall not speak this way to one of our guests," his words causing the guards to take another step forward. "You can't tell me what I can and cannot do," Hardman scoffs towards, "and neither can you," he adds looking at the redhead in his hands again.

"Actually," King Gordon intervenes both men as he steps in the middle, "my son is right," he counters nodding at Harvey and the Duchess before he faces Hardman again. "Guests of Fort Williamstown will not be treated disrespectful and anyone that does is advised to leave straightaway."

"Ooh," Hardman laughs, "I have no intention on hanging around in this pathetic demonstration of a Kingdom," he scoffs, "and neither will she," he pulls the redhead back on her feet, pushing her forward and into the hands of some guards that came with him.

"No," Harvey bursts out as he takes another step towards the rest, making one of the guards pull his sword and point it at the young prince. He gets stopped in his tracks, his gaze meeting Donna's in the distance and he sees her shaking her head once again. "Harvey," Gordon, pulls his son back. "Lower your swords and we shall let you leave in peace," he orders pointing at the gates.

The guards retreat themselves and the young heir turns to face his father. "What did you do?" he exclaims, his gaze first meeting the older man before it lands on the Duchess, who hastily nods at him. "Letting her leave with that man," his fist clenched pointing at the doors behind him, "how could you?"

"You let her go," he's throwing his hands in the air as he walks backwards, "she came to us for assistance, she expected us to fight for her and you let her go." The words of the young man making King Gordon swallow, only now realising there was something more going on. "I couldn't stop him from taking her, not without risking a confrontation between our two families," Gordon explains following his son, "but that doesn't mean you.. we can't still try to help her." Harvey lets out a breath as he turns around on his feet, running outside.

She wrestles her arms out of the grip of the guards when they near the carriage, her throat starting to get sore from all the accusations she throws in her uncle's direction, but he doesn't give in. "Shut the hell up," Hardman scoffs, his right arm falling around the Lord's shoulder as they walk farther. "Get her in the carriage."

"Not without me."

Hardman's jaw clenches hearing the voice, his arm falling from the Lord's shoulder he turns around slowly until he finds himself face to face with a woman he remembers all too well. "You?" he stutters, a shiver running down his spine. He still remembers the stories, of her and what she was capable of. "Daniel," the Duchess nods, "She's not leaving here without me. Period."

King Hardman's jaw is still dropped before he even fully realizes what just happened. How that woman showed up her, managed to get in the carriage with his niece and have them drive off before he could respond. He turns around looking at the empty spot on the court yard as he notices the young prince running towards him again.

"Where is she?"

"You're too late," Hardman laughs as he walks back to the open door of his carriage. "I'm going to get her back," Hardman looks at the hand on his arm, slapping it away in one swift movement as he places his foot on the first step of the carriage. "No you won't," he shakes his head, "send my regards to Lilibeth will you?" he laughs pulling the door closed. Tapping the roof twice to let a guard know they can take off.

Harvey jumps back as the carriage drives away, his mouth still agape he stares in the distance. _Lilibeth._ "Li –" he doesn't even finish pronouncing his mother's name as his jaws grit together again. He turns around on his place, letting out an annoyed sigh of his inability to fight this, he marches himself back into the fort.

.

Donna slides over the bench into the corner as the lady, who had just gotten inside, looks up to her. "Don't worry," the Duchess smiles. Donna swallows looking back at the woman she hadn't seen before at Williamstown but looks familiar non the less. "I used to be a lady-in-waiting of your mother," the Duchess smiles, her hand covering that off the young princess. "I remember," she whispers nodding slowly.

"He'll still try to help you," she whispers, "and I'm here to make sure you're okay and assist you too," she squeezes the redhead's hand. "Thank you," Donna smiles letting her head lean against the window of the carriage, her mind already drifting off to everything that's bound to happen to her soon.

.

His feet carry him back through the halls of fort Williamstown, his blood still boiling he rushes himself to his father's library. Without warning he pushes the heavy wooden door open, making it slam against the wall. The noise it creates enough for the older man to turn around. "Harvey," the King tries to calm his son.

"She got away!" His hand pushing the books they'd studied earlier that day off the table, his other arm clearing the rest of the wooden object as he rages on. "Son," Gordon speaks stepping towards him, his hands landing on the younger man's shoulders, "calm down. You promised me you wouldn't do anything to cause a war between our two Kingdoms and you certainly don't want to start a war with me."

"Why should I care about my promises to you," Harvey pushes his father away, "if you already made me break my promise to her," he signals the books on the ground. "I promised I'd help her!"

"And you still can."

Harvey let his head fall down, exhaling through his nose he tries to calm himself down. "How?" he raises his shoulders, his head shaking slowly. "Because I..," his voice breaks, "I have no idea how to get us out of this."

Gordon looks at his son, despair visible in the young man's eyes. He takes a deep breath, letting his hand rest on his son's shoulder, he guides the prince to the sofa. "How about you start with telling me exactly what's going on?"

* * *

The Duchess closes the door of the chamber she spend over twelve years in behind her as she tries to remember the her way back through the fort. Her hand rests on the door handle to the art gallery, but she knows now it's not the time to take a look. There are more important issues at hand at the moment.

She walks down the hall, the walls and decorations exactly as she remembered them to be, but the lively atmosphere that once graced these hallways is gone. It's quiet and sombre, almost dark even on this early hour in the morning. She lets out a sigh before she enters the princess' chamber. "Your highness," she bows.

Donna looks over her shoulder, briefly nodding at the woman before she redirects her focus on the books in front of her again. Flipping through the pages, she lets out a deep sighs as she can't find what she's looking for. The book falling on the ground, she shakes her head. "I can't find it."

* * *

"Marcus, stop talking," Harvey hisses as he pushes another drawer in the archive shut as he thinks back to the advice their father had given him the day before. On where to find a possible paper trail of their betrothal. That is, if there was a trail left. The King couldn't guarantee. "Just.." he pauses letting out a sigh, "try the next drawer. Please."

* * *

Donna leans back in her chair. Her head resting against the palm of her right hand. "What if there's no proof of my betrothal to the Specter's to be found?" she whispers, "is there anything else we could do."

The Duchess nods at the redhead, her finger moving over the pages in front of her as she quickly scans the text. "There might be another way to stop this all from happening," she speaks softly then, looking at Donna who asks her to continue. "A marriage ministered by someone responsible for someone's death is considered invalid too."

The redhead swallows upon hearing the words, "I'm sorry?"

"King Hardman," the Duchess whispers, letting her head hang low, "what did they tell you about your parents?" Donna's mouth drop, a lump in her throat she stares in the distance. "My.. my parents?" she stutters, feeling tears well up in her eyes as she thinks back to the last time she had seen them. She walks herself over to the Duchess. "What about my parents."

"It wasn't an accident."

A gasp escapes the princess lips as her knees turn week. Her legs giving in, she collapses on the floor. Her hand on her chest, she gasps for air. "It.. it..," tears rolling down her cheek, she falls silent. Her head resting on her knees she wraps her arms around her legs, the sound of soft sobs filling the room around them.

The Duchess hesitates for a moment but kneels down besides the young woman, wrapping her arms around the redhead, she tries to comfort her. "I'm sorry," she whispers, knowing that it makes no difference and under different circumstances she would have never told her the real story. "You know I used to be your mother's lady-in-waiting, right?"

Donna nods, looking up to the other woman with watery eyes, she swallows. "What happened to them?" The Duchess pulls her closer, "the day they died in the supposed accident," she pauses for a second, "their carriage never left the fort that day."

"There was never any plan for your parents to make that trip and I never helped your mother get ready for it that day. In fact, when I showed up at her chambers it was empty," the Duchess whispers, letting her hand run through Donna's hair. "I've seen their carriage in the stables after it supposedly crashed and an hour later when I came back to show it to Lord Litt it was gone too. I know what I saw, it was there."

"I didn't get to see your mother's body before her funeral and I don't think anyone else did either. Not even mentioning how the funeral was already the next morning," the Duchess swallows, fighting the tears, "after the event your uncle banned me and anyone still loyal to your parents. I.. I went to the place they said it happened, there.. there weren't any tracks.. Donna," she pauses holding the princess close, "I'm so sorry, but something happened that day six years ago and all I can think of is that it wasn't an accident."

The princess wipes away a few tears, lifting her head from the other woman's shoulder. "So… my uncle?" she can barely pronounce the words. "We've never been able to prove it," the Duchess nods, "but he's the only one who benefited from all this and the way he banned nearly all of the staff. The way he claimed the throne merely hours after the funeral, the way that room was decorated and the way he made people celebrate it.. I've in all the years I worked here never seen an event like that been planned in under a day."

Donna lets out a sigh, pushing herself back up. Her hand running over her face, she paces through the room, trying to grasp all the information the Duchess had just given her. "But.." she pauses letting out a breath, throwing her head back she still fight the tears, "I don't see how this will help me. King Hardman can do whatever he pleases, he has absolute power."

"Besides, he won't even be the one officiating the wedding," Donna shakes her head, her hands in the air, "I.. I just don't see how we can use this." The Duchess nods, letting out a sigh. "Do you know who will be doing that?" she whispers.

"Minister Soloff," the name leaves her lips in almost a laugh, "my uncle's right hand man."

"Good," the Duchess mumbles turning to face the documents on the table again. "Good?" she asks, walking herself over to the table again. "Yes," the Duchess nods, "because if what I told you about your parents is really true, he must have been part of the plan. He was after all the one who guided their funeral."

* * *

The youngest prince lets out a sigh, his hands leaning on the drawer before he takes in the stack of papers he just searched. "Harvey," he sighs, "I don't think it's here," he adds shaking his head as he closes another cabinet.

He lets the paper slip from his hand, his head turning from left to right as he looks at all the documents they searched. "It has to be here, Marcus," he sighs letting his hand run through his hair. "I need it to be here."

"I know," the younger heir answers as he walks over to his older brother, "but we're here searching with the four of us," he signals Knight Ross and Lord Litt to follow him, "and we still haven't found a single piece of evidence."

* * *

She quietly eats her dinner, her eyes mostly focussed on the food on the plate in front of her. But every once in a while she looks to her right. To her uncle and the Lord she's supposed to wed. He hasn't even spoken to her, he doesn't even look at her.

He seems quite nice though, amicably chatting away with her uncle, but she can't hear them on the other end of the table. She wonders what his part in all this is and why he agreed to wed her, but never looks or speaks with her.

Not that it matters that much to her, maybe it's for the best. She wants to get out of this and talking to the gentleman might even make her like him. She thinks that's unlikely the least, but it's better to see him as a complete stranger.

She looks away then, when both men look in her direction, but they don't address her and she's never realised how lonely her life actually was until now. Now that she could compare it to the dinner she had two nights ago at the Specter House.

She extends her hand to grab a piece of bread, a small smile appearing on her lips as she recalls the way his fingers had touched hers. The way it had made her feel and the way he had smiled at her. She looks down trying not the blush at the pure memories of him, their kiss, she simply waits for the dinner to be over to retreat herself to her chambers again.

.

Her fingers move over the quill to the back of the white feather. Letting the edge run over her fingertips, she closes her eyes thinking back to that one moment in the library with him. When he caught her drawing his hands. She lets out breath as she leans down on her bed, the empty piece of paper still in her hands she carefully thinks about the words she's going to fill it with.

* * *

Harvey loses his temper for the umpteenth time in the past two days. His hand pulling a drawer to the ground, numerous of documents fly through the air until they scatter on the cold stone floor beneath his feet. He lets out a scream no one but himself can hear as he lets himself fall down on the ground.

He wonders if it is his fault that the documents are nowhere to be seen. If him saying over and over again how he didn't want to be betrothed was the reason for their disappearance. He wonders if the documents were already destroyed or only done so when he had that conversation with his father half a year ago.

He wonders if this is his punishment for going against the custom. If this is the universe telling him he got what he wanted all along, but right now it's not what he wants at all. He knows their betrothal was put off years before that, but he can't help but feel guilty. Especially now that he has met her.

Looking to the mess around, his eyes fall on the quill next to his right hand. Letting out another deep sigh of disappointment he reaches for the object and an empty sheet of paper. Deciding it's best to inform her on the developments. Mostly on her case and his help, but a few words are dedicated to his feelings. It isn't much and it isn't anything precise, but he feels the need to explain why he asked her to marry him.

* * *

A droplet of hot red candle wax falls on her finger and she pulls her hand back, biting her lip to stop her from screaming. She continues with the task at hand. Pressing the ring in the red substance, she seals the letter.

The folded piece of paper in her hands, she walks towards her maid. Handing her the piece of paper the maid shakes her head. Donna swallows, giving the woman a small nod and a fake smile before she looks down. It's been the same answer to an unpronounced question for the past three days in a row.

No response, no letters.

Nothing.

* * *

He paces through the archive in the early hours of the morning again. Once more counting the cabinets and it's subjects in his mind, he feels like he's going insane. Every day he spends his entire day here to look for a piece of paper he isn't even sure off that it still exists.

His foot kicks against one of the boxes he hasn't looked in yet. It goes against every fibre of his being to look at these particular boxes. Having dragged every single one of them here himself, he would have set them on fire if his father hadn't stopped him.

He doesn't even want to look at them, let alone open these boxes. The ones belonging to his mother, but it's his last resort. His last option before he has to think of yet another plan with a dead end. Not wanting to do this alone, he calls his brother and the two other men for help.

* * *

She stretches her arms to either side of her bed. Her head buried between pillows she lets out a sigh as she thinks of her options and foremost lack thereof. Days have gone by, all following the same pattern. Searching for a single piece of evidence of her uncle's or the minister's involvement in her parents death between the awkward meetings at the dining room table she had to spend in the presence of the men she started to like less each day.

She's staring at the ceiling as her maid enters her room. "Your Highness," the maid whispers. "Rachel," the princess answers without looking up, closing her eyes she waits for the maid to continue talking. "I.. I'm sorry to disturb you this late," the maid apologizes, "but earl Travis Tanner is here to see you."

"Tanner," she mumbles out loud, frowning as she turns to face the maid, "tell him to leave," she answers as she lets herself fall back on her bed. Her arms on her chest, she plays with the pendant of her necklace, but the maid returns within mere seconds. "Earl Tanner refuses to leave, your Highness."

She lets out a sigh, pushing herself up. "You can go," she whispers at her maid as she gets herself of the bed. Placing the pendant back, she brushes her hands down her dress as she walks herself over to the door. Her hand falling around the knob she opens it in one swift swing, a dozen of words directed to the earl on the tip of her tongue, but they all fade away the second her eyes lock with his.

"Harvey?"


	6. Chapter 05 - Duke Darby

**Hi everyone. THANKS for the reviews. It's been a while since I worked on this fic, because I stumbled onto something I think might be a problem and I've been trying to figure things out for some time, but thought lets go ahead and just write. So here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy it and maybe leave a review. And don't forget to check out my new fic 180 Days of Donna. xx**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Duke Darby**

Her arms fall around his neck instantly, pulling him closer until their chests are flush against the other. But before he gets the chance to wrap his arms around her waist in return, she realizes what she's doing. Her hands slipping from his shoulders she takes two steps back.

Her head hanging low, she looks up when her name leaves his lips at last. She swallows, trying to find her strength. "Why are you here?" she inquires then. "You came to me for help and I promised I'd help you," he reasons, a frown appearing on his face. She nods, pursing her lips together. "But.."

"But what?" he counters, unsure of why she's acting so stand-offish. Not even a hint of a smile on her face. "You never wrote me back," she reasons, her hands falling to her hips. She's trying to stand stronger. "Wrote?" he repeats, his head slowly shaking as he takes a step towards her. "Donna, what are you talking about?"

"Letters," she counters. "The letters I wrote you," she adds seeing the confusion grow on his face, her expression softens a little. "I … You never got them," the words sounding more like an statement than a question, but he shakes his head in return non the less. "No, I didn't," he apologizes, a small smile on his lips as he hopes she wrote him because she couldn't forget what happened between them. Because neither could he. "Donna, I.. "

"Why are you here?" she repeats then interrupting him. "Why did you pretend to be earl Tanner?" She looks him stern in the eyes and he swallows once. "It was an idea of my father," he starts, "to pretend to be someone else and it needed to be someone who wasn't in any way connected to my House. No way they would have let me in knowing who I am."

She nods in return. "That's what you did on my birthday," she states then and he smiles. "Yeah well, kind of. We pretended to be knights," he crooks his head smirking at her, "and it worked twice now, so maybe you should do something about the guards here."

She lets out a laugh, briefly looking away. "In that case I think the guards are just fine," she answers and he smiles, his eyes meeting hers once more. "The Duchess told me there might be another way to stop my wedding," she speaks then and his eyes darken for a second, nodding he signals for her to continue.

"My uncle and his right hand man are responsible for my parent's death," she whispers then and he sees her eyes well up a little. His hand lingering in the air, but he doesn't touch her. He's not supposed to touch her. "We just haven't been able to proof it," she sighs looking down as she thinks back to all the days she spend searching for a clue. A single paper trail.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and he smiles once more as she looks at him again. "I have something for you," he continues, his hand moving to his chest he pulls out a piece of paper. Her eyes widen as he holds it right in front of her. "What.. what's this?" she whispers, not wanting to get her hopes up.

"Proof." He smiles, "of our betrothal," he adds to clarify it's not related to her parent's death. She nods, looking down. Afraid of what might happen if she looks at him any longer. "But I thought that was called off," she counters, her hands fidgeting with her dress.

"It was, but we could still use it. Or at least try to use it, to fight your wedding," he answers. "We could talk to your uncle, the Lord you.. you're supposed to wed now and the minister," he tells her and she nods in agreement. "Do you think it will work?"

"Honestly," he shakes his head, "I don't know. But we have to try. We have to confront your uncle." She lets out a breath, taking a step back she turns around, trying to let all this news sink in a little. "No," she answers at last, "I should confront my uncle."

"Donna," he breathes, but she shakes her head turning to face him again. "No," she speaks again, "you can't come along. You're not even supposed to be here and going to face him, " she pauses for a second, "He… they don't know you are here and that's our advantage."

He swallows, but he understands it's for the best. "Are you sure?" he asks one last time, extending the papers towards her again. She smiles, her hands falling around the rolled up piece of papers. "I am."

.

Tapping the documents against her left hand she moves through the corridors. Practising her lines, she's deciding what she's going to say to the man that cared for her for the past six years. The man that had up until now never done her wrong, or at least that's what she had believed.

Now she's fuelled with a mixture of anger, fear and hatred to the only remaining member of her family. Pushing the door to the dining hall open she marches inside. Her gaze automatically searching for her uncle, it lands on the older man soon after. He's standing close to her betrothed, his arm wrapped around the other man's shoulder. Both of them laughing and amicably chatting away.

"Daniel," she orders loudly. Her words making the older man's hand slip over the Lords arm as he turns around. "What?" he barks back as he towers out above the eighteen year old and she's taken a back for a second by the echo of his voice in the room around them.

"You," she starts swallowing, "you can't make me wed him," she nods her head in the direction of the Lord. "And why's that?" King Hardman laughs, shaking his head, because he doesn't believe a word of what she's saying. "Because this," she raises her hand with the document, "proofs I was already betrothed and – "

"Show me," her uncle orders and Donna hesitates for a second. A second to long when his words are followed with a "Now," as he pulls them from her hand. The paper cutting through her delicate skin, she cringes on the spot. Her fist balding she waits for her uncle to comment.

She looks at the Lord then. The way he's standing only a couple of meters away from them. The way he just looks at them, not a word leaving his lips and she can't even remember if the man she's supposed to wed has said more to her than just hello. She stares at him for a second, studying the look on his face. Wondering if he in any shape, way or form feels sorry for her.

"What proof?" Daniel counters and her head turns back instantly. Only to see the piece of paper fall from his hand and into the burning fire of the fire place. "No," she gasps, her bleeding hand extended, but she's too far away as she hears the paper cripple in the flames.

"No," she cries again. Her eyes closing as her uncle laughs louder than she's ever heard him before. Her arm falls around her chest and she turns around in pain. Her uncle's shoulder bumping into hers as he storms off, she loses her balance. Her knees giving in, she falls down on the cold stone floor.

The Lord swallows. His lips slowly parting, but he doesn't speak or act, not before he sees that King Hardman has left the two of them alone. Taking three steps towards the redhead, he kneels down beside her. Extending his hand for help she moves away from him.

"Why?" she mumbles, pulling her dress together as she looks at the man. "Why do you have to do this?" she asks, pushing herself back on her feet and he follows her lead. "Why are you making me do this?" she mumbles once more, her feet already taking steps away from him.

"I'm sorry," he speaks at last and she turns around then. "Why?" she asks one last time and he sighs. Looking away before he faces her again. "Because I'd do anything for the ones that I love," he gives her a small smile, turning around and leaving her alone before she can respond to his statement.

.

She waits a couple of minutes in the dining hall. Just her and her thoughts, before she pushes herself back on her feet. There's no time to waste, with only a few days left till her own wedding she needs to come up with a new plan as soon as possible.

Running out of the dining hall she bumps into an older man. His hand catching hers she lets out a small cry of pain. She withdraws herself, observing the person she ran into now. Another thing that's been happening too much these past few days. "Donna," the bald man smiles and her mouth drops in surprise before her lips turn into a big grin.

"Duke Darby," she mumbles, not able to believe her eyes she moves back. Embracing the man that used to live in the fortress. "What are you doing here?" she mumbles striding back again, taking the older man in. Still wearing the same brightly coloured ensembles she used to admire as a little girl.

"The Duchess asked me to come back," he grins and as he sees Donna's face change a little he continues. "Not just me, princess. Lady Katrina and Marques Marlow too," he answers. "Louis?" she answers astonished, "you all came back? Why?" she whispers.

"Because you need support," the older man smiles, turning her hand over in his. "Now let uncle Eddie look at your hand and tell me exactly what's going on." She nods fighting the tears as she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Winding the bandage around her hand he smiles at her once more. "So that fellow I've seen following your uncle wherever he goes is supposed to wed you?" he questions after she told him everything that had occurred in the past few days.

Donna presses her lips together, slowly nodding as she pulls her hand back from his grasp. The Duke gives her an understanding smile. "Such a shame," he smirks then.

.

She flips over another page in her book. Letting out a sigh as she's unable to focus on the words. Her head resting against the cold glass of the window behind her. Sighing once more, she lets her shoulders rest against the frame. Turning her head to the left she looks down at the court yard.

She sees the small party standing down there. The Duchess, Duke Darby, several ladies of chambers and him. Harvey, with next to him what she assumes to be his servant. Her hand touching the window next to her head, a tear runs down her cheek as another day passed by and another idea fired back.

He rocks back and forth on his feet. Listening to the words of both the Duke and the Duchess, he buries his hands in his pockets. Letting out a sigh as the older man and woman come to same conclusion he feared himself, there's little they can do now. Slowly lifting his head, he sees her then. Leaning against the window and their eyes meet as he looks at her.

A small smile on his lips he keeps looking at her, the pure sight of her making his heart starting to beat faster. "Excuse me," he mumbles then to his servant Michael, before he steps aside. Looking up once more before he disappears through the gate towards the entrance.

.

He walks through the corridors towards her chambers. Stopping in the doorway as he still sees her sitting in front of the window. He leans against the frame, pushing the curtain away he studies her face. The way the sun light hits her frame, the way she seems to be deep in thought. Probably thinking about the same things he had been until now, her beauty too distracting now.

She can sense his presence. His eyes lingering on her skin, but instead of saying she knows he's there she slowly lifts her head. Turning it to face him, her eyes meet his once again. A small smile on her lips she places the book down next to her, but before she can get on her feet he tells her to stay.

Her gaze following his every move as he walks towards her, turning around in front of her he kneels down beside her. Sitting on the ground at her feet, his arm rests on the window sill she's sitting on and all he can do is look at her.

Seeing the same worried feeling he feels inside mirrored in her eyes, his fingers brush past hers and his hand covers her. Letting his fingers trace the bandage around her hand, he brings her hand to his lips. Placing a kiss on top of it, before he smiles at her in reassurance. "We'll find a way, Donna," he whispers, "I promise."


End file.
